


Dean's Boy

by heauregard



Series: Rape/Noncon Porn [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel, Cas is 15 at first, Crazy Dean, Daddy Kink, Feminization, Forced Feminization, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Abuse, Obsession, Older Dean, Oral Sex, Physical Abuse, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sexual Abuse, Size Difference, Size Kink, Teen Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2018-12-06 01:09:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11589906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heauregard/pseuds/heauregard
Summary: Dean loves his boy, even if his boy doesn't love him, yet.





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel was beautiful. 

His dark brown hair, curling in some spots and straight in others, was nice and soft. From the length it was, the boy was overdue for a haircut by a couple of months. His hair smelled like lavender, a sweet smell that mixed with sweat that still somehow managed to drive Dean crazy. Dean brushed away the little curl of hair on the boy's forehead and kissed the spot gently, collecting the sweat that had formed there with his lips. He licked his lips and smiled at the slightly salty taste, running his hand through the sweat drenched locks and looking down at his boy.

Castiel's eyes were a bright crystal blue, long black eyelashes curling upwards as the muscles in his eyelids twitched. Just looking down at the boy and meeting those crystals made him feel like his soul was being poked and prodded. Dean kissed the boy's thin eyebrows gently, moving his hand down from his hair to his cheek. His thumb caressed Castiel's cheek, pressing their foreheads together and keeping his emerald eyes locked on the pools of blue beneath him, which were glassy with tears. Tears of pleasure no doubt.

Castiel's lips were dry, but not chapped with dead skin peeling off of them like most people got. They were soft to the touch, a light pink that matched the boy's sweet little nipples. But they still looked so dry, so Dean would fix that for him. He closed the thin gap between their mouths and gently pressed his lips to Castiel's, running his tongue along the seam of them until they opened when the boy physically couldn't hold in another whimper. Dean continued to wet them with his tongue, slowly sliding the wet muscle into his boy's and exploring the warm cavity. Castiel's mouth tasted like honey and tea, probably from his last snack.

Pulling away from the kiss, Dean took the time to angle his head down and just take in the rest of the boy's beauty. Thin shoulders and a sharp collarbone littered with marks from Dean's mouth. Sweet little pink buds sitting on his chest, hard from when Dean licked and nibbled on them hungrily. A taut, quivering tummy covered in lube from Dean rubbing his hands over it after stretching him open. Sharp, jutting hip bones that were covered in bites and dark marks from when Dean discovered them and had let out an animalistic growl. Thighs too thick for the rest of his lithe body, but perfect for grabbing and squeezing. Asscheeks thick and oh so wonderfully soft, almost as good as what was between them. The sweet, delicious little pink hole Dean had spent nearly an hour licking open, he groaned at the recent memory. Castiel's little cock was adorable, no longer than the top of his index finger to the middle of his palm even when hard. Long tan legs, currently kept strung up and apart by a spreader bar hanging from the ceiling.

What a sweet little thing. The poor boy was crying, begging, crying out. Dean wanted to believe it was because of his cock and how wide he was fucking the boy, but he knew it wasn't. Not yet.

“Please stop,” Castiel begged, tears falling down his temples and into his hairline.

Dean kept thrusting into that sweet little asshole, groaning when it clenched around him impossibly tight as Castiel struggled. His legs were strung up by the bar hanging above the bed, making it too easy for Dean to slide right in between them. He'd left the brunette’s arms free, mainly because it made him feel special when the boy would push and shove at his chest as hard as he possibly could, but not be able to budge Dean. Dean was broader and taller and stronger than Castiel, so he could immobilize him just by laying on the smaller boy. It was almost too easy to overpower him.

Dean had been watching the boy for a good few months now. He went to the local high school down the road, to which his foster parents drove him and picked him up each day. Dean would sit in the impala across the street and watch Castiel each lunch alone out front. It seemed like the boy didn't have any friends, other than the pigeons he would feed each day. It was cute, like he was a Disney princess. He was Dean's little princess. He had made an account on Instagram, despite his lack of knowledge of the online world, just to follow the boy and see what he liked. Castiel enjoyed small animals and taking pictures of nature and some indie band called The 1975, so Dean knew how to decorate his room.

There were potted plants all around the room, mainly pretty and colorful flowers. He'd bought a few CDs of that band Cas liked for the small stereo in the corner, along with other music CDs for some variety. The bedsheets were a pastel blue color and he'd even painted the walls a light lavender so they weren't the plain grey concrete color all of the rooms in the bunker were. He'd painted the one brick wall behind the bed all white and left some acrylic paints so the boy could customize it once he got comfortable. There was a tablet in there with different makeover and coloring book games for him, which he figured his boy would enjoy. Clothes ranging from panties to boxers and from dresses to khaki pants were nearly folded in the dresser drawers. He was proud of himself for the comfy little room he'd made. He hoped Cas would like it.

Dean grunted and rolled his hips into the boy's ass, eyes closing as his movements sped up. Castiel was still crying and pleading for him to stop, yelping each time the older man fucked into him harder. His little body kept surging upwards on the bed and Dean would grip his hips, thumbs digging into the marked up hip bones, and yank him back down onto his cock. He groaned, his hips smacking against the thick meat of his boy's asscheeks. Castiel had been a virgin before today, before Dean snatched him up earlier this afternoon.

Castiel had been out at the pet store looking at the guinea pigs in the glass cages in the walls. His foster parents were due to pick him up, but before they could, Dean made his move. Castiel had just walked out of the pet store after petting all of the animals, bless his heart, and Dean had his car ready right in front, the engine off so he could be heard. He had lied that something had come up with his parents and they called him an Uber to get home. Castiel had believed him, and Dean was so glad that he'd picked out such a naive little thing. The teen had gotten into his car so easy, taken the water bottle with the roofies crushed up and stirred into it so easy, dranken it all and passed out so easy. 

It must have been a scary wake up call when he'd opened his eyes and discovered he was naked and tied up on the soft pastel sheets of his bed. It must have been scary when the strange man he'd later know as Daddy came into the room, undressed, and began stretching open his little hole. It must have been humiliating to feel such big, thick fingers in his tight little virgin canal and love it when they pressed into his sweet spot. It must have made him want to cry when his little cock got hard at the stimulation and he realized he was enjoying it too much.

Dean began speeding up his hips, his large hands rubbing up and down the boy's sides, stopping just underneath his armpits so he could run his thumbs over the hard little nubs of his chest. Castiel whimpered at the feeling,unable to help the arching of his back into the touch. He was still crying, voice hoarse from screaming for help. Dean's cock had hurt when he first pushed it in slowly, centimeter by centimeter, which was agonizing considering how big it was. Now though, with the head pressing into that sweet spot within him, it felt so good that Castiel hated himself for arching into it. Dean, however, was having a field day with the reaction.

“Yeah, poor little baby just loves his Daddy's thick cock, huh?” he taunted, his lips right by Castiel's ear so even when the boy turned his head away, he could still hear him. “Bet you love it, love my cock pounding this sweet little virgin ass. Just watch, you'll be calling me Daddy by the end of the week, begging for me to fuck you.”

Castiel let out a sob, shaking his head quickly in denial. Dean chuckled, fucking his hips forward with a groan. Castiel's legs jerked slightly at the action, unable to stop the sound it tore from his throat. Dean's cock was long and thick and Castiel could feel it moving inside of his tight channel, even more so when he clamped down on it unintentionally. His thin body was covered in sweat as his back rubbed against the sheets, the ceiling fan in the room rotating but having no effect with the man's body covering his.

“Such a sweet boy, taking it so good. You'll learn to love it, you'll learn to beg for it and thank Daddy when he gives it to you,” Dean taunted, pearly white teeth nipping at the boy's jawline.

Castiel looked so beautiful when he cried, he even made the ugly sobbing sounds beautiful. His teary blue eyes made Dean coo at him and wipe the droplets away with his thumb. It was so pitiful how the boy was looking up at him, he almost felt bad. Almost.

“You want Daddy to slow down?”

No answer. Dean slammed his hips forward and Castiel let out a broken plea to stop.

“If you want Daddy to slow down, ask nicely.”

Still no answer. Dean used his free arm to wrap around the boy's waist and jackhammer his cock into him. Castiel cried out loudly and shoved at his chest pathetically.

“C'mon, if you want me to slow down and take it easy on you, ask nicely. C'mon Princess, just ask,” he whispered, kissing Castiel's sweaty forehead.

Defeated and aching from the roughness, Castiel gave in.

“P-please! Please s-sl-slow down,” he begged, legs trembling where they were still strung up.

Dean smiled and immediately slowed his hips to a gentle roll, the head of his cock still rubbing against his boy's prostate. He brushed his hand through his boy's hair and kissed his forehead, listening to Castiel's labored breathing and pants of relief. The brunette still whimpered each time his sweet spot was stimulated, eyes closed tightly and cheeks flushed bright red. Dean reached down with one hand, gently squeezing it around the boy's hard little prick. Castiel's eyes shot open with a gasp and he whined lowly, knees turning inwards as he tried and failed to clamp his legs together.

“Wonder if I can train you to come on my cock, maybe you'll get a reward each time you do…” Dean pondered aloud, grinning as he slowly stroked his boy's cock. “Maybe this time I'll help you out a little bit though, stroke your cute little dick until you come with me shoved up your ass.”

Castiel whimpered, breathing picking up even more as Dean moved his hand up and down. Dean's palm was rough and covered in a mixture of lube and sweat, slicking the way. It only took a few strokes and pulls until Castiel was arching his back off of the mattress and coming with a pathetic sob. Dean watched the boy's thin body bend and arch as he came, his beautiful tear streaked face contorting in pleasure. Dean smiled, burying his face in the boy's neck and rolling his hips quicker.

“You did so good for me, so good for your first time. I knew you'd be a good boy Sweetheart, my sweet boy,” he grunted, arms wrapping around Castiel's waist and holding him still. “My sweet boy, fuck, Daddy loves your fuckin’ asshole, shit. Shit, shit, shit! Fuck, take it!”

He came into his boy then, groaning into his neck loudly. He was buried balls deep in Castiel, both of them covered in sweat. His dirty blonde hair looked darker now that it was soaked in sweat with droplets dripping down onto Castiel's forehead when he pulled away. He smiled lazily down at the boy, who was sobbing uncontrollably now, probably humiliated that he came on his captor’s fat cock. Dean stayed there for a long time, dick now limp inside of him as they both came down from their highs. Castiel refused to look Dean in the eyes and it made the older man chuckle. 

When he finally did pull out, the action came with an obscene squelching noise that made Castiel cringe. Dean sighed, satisfied with how good of a boy Castiel was. He stood up from the bed with a groan, heading over to where he'd brought his pajamas in for afterwards. He pulled on the plaid pajama pants, then walked out of the room. Castiel whimpered desperately, left strung up and sweaty and crying. Just when he thought he'd be left like this until the next visit, Dean walked back in with a pot of warm water, a rag, some light pink object, an ice pack, and a black t-shirt about Dean's size.

The man walked over and unlatched the restraints on both sides of the spreader bar, carefully lowering the boy's legs by his ankles until they were on the bed. He sat beside Castiel, dipping the rag into the warm water before carefully cleaning up the cum coating the boy's tan, taut tummy. He did the same all over his body to clean the sweat, then dropped the rag into the water. Wordlessly, he picked up the pink object and situated himself between Castiel's long legs. The brunette flinched when the object was pressed against the sensitive and abused hole oozing cum, but Dean slid it anyways, earning a whine and several pleas for no more from Castiel. Dean set the ice pack on the bed underneath his ass, and the cold made Castiel shiver, then sigh softly in relief. 

  
Castiel's body felt as heavy as lead when Dean pulled his arms so he was in a sitting position. He slid the shirt over his head and made sure his arms found the right holes. The shirt was clearly too big for him, but that's what made it all the better view for Dean. Before he covered his Princess up with the blanket, he made sure to snap a picture. His boy looked like a broken doll, all bruised and limp on the bed, defeated. It was a sight he'd wanted to see since he first spotted Castiel. After he had the picture, he kissed the boy's forehead gently, then walked out of the room and locked the door from the outside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little more dark than the previous, so take caution. Let me know what you think with a comment!

Castiel sat on the bed trembling, hugging his knees to his chest in fear. He looked around at the room to try to distract himself from the way his body ached where it bent naturally. The walls were a light lavender color, the wall that the headboard was rested against obviously brick painted white. There was a drawer with acrylic paints and different size brushes in the nightstand beside him. He sniffled, moving to lay on his side with a whimper, his legs sore from what the man had done to him. He had pulled the pink thing out of himself and chucked it across the room, his poor little hole aching.

He wasn't sure what his captor’s name was, the man didn't provide one. He called himself Daddy earlier when he was on top of Castiel - the brunette shivered at the memory - and probably wanted Castiel to do the same. He wondered idly if the man would actually tell him his real name if Castiel asked, that way he'd have something to give the police when he got out of here, if he got out of here. He didn't want to call the man Daddy, despite how even just the thought of the name had done something to him to make him shudder and grip the sheets. The fabric was soft and he rubbed it between his thumb and index finger to occupy his mind.

He didn't sleep that night, even when the lights went out, probably the man's doing from whatever room he was in. He had gotten up at one point and jiggled the door knob, even slammed his body up against it in frustration. The action only shot a shock of pain down his arm and made him walk back over to the bed in defeat. He cried most of the night, clutching his arms around himself and humming to try to calm his nerves.

Dean came in the next morning with a tray of food, making sure to shut and lock the door to eliminate any chance of Castiel running off as he took a seat on the bed beside the brunette. Castiel sat up quickly and scrambled away, his back hitting the headboard. The man chuckled, cutting up a piece of the large waffle on the plate, making sure it had a blueberry in the little cove of its surface before dipping it into the syrup, then holding towards the frightened boy. Castiel shook his head stubbornly, pushing himself back against the headboard more. Dean sighed softly, standing up and rounding the bed, managing to grab a fist full of the smaller boy's hair before he could scoot away.

Castiel whimpered, his hands coming up to try to push Dean's away. The boy clawed at the older man's wrist, breaking the skin but it wasn't a big deal, there was barely any blood from his short nails. Dean leaned down so his face was level with Castiel's, pressing the piece of food to his lips. He locked his eyes with Castiel's crystal blue ones and he spoke lowly, voice laced with a dangerous edge.

“You're gonna eat this fuckin’ food or I'll shove it down your throat, then do the same with my cock so you can wash it down with my cum,” he threatened.

His eyebrow was raised as he watched the boy, waiting for his response. Castiel's lips began to quiver, fat tears slipping down his cheeks. He looked so sad, so innocent. Dean thumbed away the tears slowly, then sucked his thumb into his mouth and tasted the salty beads, moaning dramatically at the taste. He popped the digit from his lips then and nudged the waffle against Castiel's lips again. Castiel opened up then, sniffling and squeezing his eyes closed as Dean fed him. He pulled the fork from the boy's lips, repeating the action over and over again until the food was gone. Dean smiled and set the fork down, swiping away more tears that had fallen down Castiel's rosy cheeks.

“Who know who cries?” Dean asked.

Castiel opened his eyes cautiously, blinking the tears out of his vision.

“Babies. Babies cry.”

Castiel looked away and sniffled, body wracking with more sobs.

“But that's okay, you're my baby,” Dean said, reaching up and running his hand through Castiel's dark brown locks. “My Baby Boy, sweet boy…”

Castiel shakily wiped his eyes with the heels of his palms. Dean's hand continued to card through his hair and Castiel found the feeling oddly comforting, despite the trauma the man put him through yesterday. Finally, after a few moments, Dean stood up and handed Castiel a glass of milk, then walked out with the empty tray. Castiel looked down at the glass, then set it in the nightstand. He pulled his knees to his chest again, sighing shakily.

It seemed like hours later that Dean came back into the room, one hand in his pocket. He opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes caught the glass of milk on the nightstand. He sighed in annoyance, walking over and pointing to it angrily. Castiel glanced over fearfully, still in the same spot and in the same position. The milk hadn't spoiled yet, but it certainly wasn't safe to consume at this point.

“You let it just sit here? Instead of telling me you didn't want it, you let it spoil? I could have put it in the fridge!”

Castiel flinched when the man raised his voice, clutching his legs tighter. Dean caught the action and chuckled, raising both eyebrows.

“Aw, are you afraid? Scared I'm gonna bend you in half and fuck your ass like yesterday? Y’know, I came in here,” he pulled a small bottle of lubricant from the pocket his hand had been in as he spoke, “intent on just fingering you and making you come like yesterday, just to be nice, but now, since you're so scared, I think I'll fuck you.”

Castiel jumped up from the bed and ran for the door, feet padding on the hardwood floor as he made it halfway through the doorway. Dean grabbed him around his middle, strong arms gripping around his waist and dragging him back. Castiel screamed and kicked and cried, even when Dean threw him down on the bed. He rolled into his back so he could kick the man but before he got the chance, Dean's larger body was on top of him, forearm pressing down on his chest just enough to keep him there. Before he could even blink, the back of Dean's hand had smacked him hard across the face, jerking his head to the side.

He sobbed and shoved at the larger built male's chest pathetically, cheek red and stinging from the impact. Dean flipped the smaller boy onto his stomach then, which was too easy considering Castiel probably only weighed around one hundred and ten pounds. Dean pinned Castiel's hips to the bed just by pressing one hand down on the boy's lower back. The shirt he'd given him to wear rode up from the struggle enough that Dean could play with his nipples while he fucked him. He popped open the lube bottle, and Castiel trembled as the cold was poured onto his abused hole, tears flowing down his cheeks and soaking into the pillow.

Dean's index finger breached his hole first, sinking in down to the last knuckle. The man wiggled it around a bit, then added a second just a few seconds later. He scissored the boy's asshole wide, groaning at the tight warmth around his thick fingers. Castiel struggled, trying to push himself up to no avail. When that didn't work, he begged.

“Please, d-don't!” he cried hoarsely, feeling Dean's fingers fucking into him, purposely avoiding the spot that sent shock of pleasure through Castiel's little body.

Dean snorted at the pathetic begging, pulling his fingers out nearly all the way before pushing in three, positioned in a cone shape for the easiest access. He watched Castiel's hole stretch around them obscenely, swallowing them up like it's what it was meant to do. Dean could only take so much of teasing himself and listening to Castiel's pleas to stop. He was going to shut him up the best was possible. He easily yanked down his jeans and boxers, slathering his hard cock in lube, listening to Castiel's panicked cries as he leaned his broad body over the littler one's.

“This is what happens when you're a bad boy,” he said into the brunette's ear through gritted teeth, shoving himself inside of Castiel in one smooth thrust.

Castiel screamed in agony, eyes squeezed shut tightly and cheek burning from when Dean had smacked him. His hole swallowed up Dean's cock shockingly well for it being only the second time taking it. The lube and stretching had helped a lot. Without it, the pain would be searing. This was surprisingly bearable, despite the lack of time he was given to adjust before the man's hips were rolling into his ass.

“St-sto-hop!” he cried out, voice breaking. “Please stop! P-p-please! You're h-hurting me!”

Dean grunted, both hands easily finding Castiel's hips and gripping them tightly. He pulled his hips back, then slammed them forward without warning. Castiel's body surged forward and he sobbed loudly, reaching back to try to shove at Dean's arms. Dean stood upright on his knees, yanking Castiel's hips so his ass was in the air and for the taking. And so Dean took. He slammed into the boy over and over, rolling his head back and cursing with each thrust.

Castiel was crying into the pillow, arms growing more and more tired as he pushed at Dean's without being able to even budge them. He eventually dropped then to the bed in defeat. Each time Dean's cock slammed into his ass, he whimpered into the soft pillowcase and new tears soaked into the forming wet spot. Once he had quieted down, he felt the man lean down again, lowering Castiel's hips to the bed. His strong arms wrapped around them to elevate them ever so slightly as he continued fucking into Castiel's hole brutally.

“How dare you try to fucking disobey me,” he hissed into the limp boy's ear, “I feed you, I clothe you, I give you this nice room. You're fucking ungrateful. You deserve this, you deserve to be fucked like the whore you are.”

Castiel turned his face the other way, breathing stuttering as he cried and cried. Dean's hips were still slamming against his, the wet sound of skin slapping on skin filled the room alongside Castiel's sobs and pleas for help and Dean's grunts and groans.

“Fuck, your ass is so Goddamn fucking tight,” Dean gritted through his teeth, angling his hips so he could fuck right into Castiel's prostate, to torment him.

Castiel felt the jolts of pleasure run up his spine each time Dean's hips collided with his own and he couldn't help but let whimpers leave his lips. His pleasure mixed with the humiliation, the aching ring of muscle Dean was slamming into becoming dull compared to the pleasure he was feeling now. He gripped the sheets beside his chest tightly, knuckles turning white. Dean noticed the action and chuckled mockingly, dick twitching and signalling how close to filling Castiel's ass with cum he was.

“Fucking take it, bitch boy. You're mine. Your ass is mine, your mind is mine, your body is mine. You belong to _me,_ I fucking _own_ you!” he growled, hips speeding up. “You're Daddy's boy and Daddy is gonna make you fucking love cock so much you'll be begging for it. Look, you're already drooling just from me fucking your asshole so hard.”

Drool was on Castiel's lips from biting and licking the pink surface in an attempt to keep himself quiet. Dean's cock just kept fucking into his sweet spot and Castiel felt like he was going to explode despite the burning hatred he felt. Dean grabbed Castiel's brown hair and yanked his head back, grunting right into his ear as he came and filled the boy's ass with white ropes. He rolled his hips a few more times before easily sliding out. He got up, pulling up his pants and leaving Castiel gaping and oozing cum and chuckling at the sight of his hard little prick between his thick thighs.

He stepped out of the room after that, locking the door. If Castiel was going to try to run away, he didn't deserve Dean's aftercare. Let him sit in his own sweat and tears. Dean felt regret flooding through his entire body the minute he stepped into his own room down the hall. He ran a hand down his flushed, red face and sat on the bed. He'd let his temper take control again.

“Fuck.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was kind of rushing with this chapter so I apologize in advance if it sucks! I have work in an hour and it's been over a month since I've updated this, but I really wanted to get it done. Let me know what you think?

Castiel had curled up onto his side after Dean left, body shaking and teeth chattering. He wasn't cold, even with the quickly cooling sweat drying on his body. He had his legs pulled up to his chest, knees almost pressing into his collarbone. His short, blunt fingernails were digging into his shins, leaving crescent shaped marks in the tanned skin. He had been laying like this for almost three hours now, his cock having gone limp from the lack of stimulation to it during the time.

Dean's cum had slowly oozed its way from his hole, dripping down his bare bottom and into the sheet, drying there in a crisp, little, yellow puddle. The milk was still sitting on the nightstand, the glass of spoiled goods that had caused this. Castiel wished he'd just dranken it, maybe then he wouldn't be laying here wishing for death. The half-circle marks left in his skin from his own nails were littered up and down his leg, some overlapping. One of them was bleeding from Castiel picking at it. The room was colder now without the heat exerted from Dean raping him, and the AC must have been turned on because the restraint bar above the bed swayed slightly where it was located a few inches away from the vent.

The room was quiet too. Castiel wasn't sobbing anymore, he wasn't screaming or panting or begging for mercy. Dean hadn't returned since he left and for that, Castiel was grateful. If Dean were to return, Castiel was certain more pain would be inflicted upon him, and at this point, the only person he wanted to hurt him was himself. He thought about seventh grade, when the boy's at his school called him names because he asked one of them to the back to school dance. He thought about when they tormented him for the following four years until he was forced to switch schools. He thought about the first time he wanted to hurt himself.

He thought about how his brother stopped him from doing so. He thought about how his brother showed him the wonders of online school. He thought about how his brother cared about him more than anyone else. He thought about how his brother was probably worried sick about him, having been a primary protector for years. He thought about his brother, Gabriel, and how he wanted nothing more than to get back to him.

But would he dare try to escape again? The last time he tried that, Dean showed him what would happen if he attempted it again. He dug his nails into his skin harder at the memory, a shudder ripping through his body that was powerful enough to make his legs twitch. He sat up, pulling his nails from the indents he'd made in his skin and ignoring the dull ache in his backside and pushing himself up to a standing position beside the bed. Even in the room with just himself, he felt ashamed of his nudity as he made his way over to the dresser quickly. He yanked open the first drawer, legs shaking with the strength it took to stand. 

The clothes in the first drawer weren't clothes, they were different shades and colors and patterns of lingerie. Castiel slammed that drawer closed, taking a deep breath. The second drawer had shorts and fuzzy pajamas. The third drawer had decent clothing, so that's how Castiel ended up in a grey shirt and khaki pants, white socks warming his feet in the chilly room. He ripped the sheets off of the bed, slamming the soiled satin onto the floor and kicking it angrily, fresh tears forming underneath his eyelids. He wiped them away angrily with the heel of his palm when they threatened to fall, breath stuttering.

His legs were still shaking as he carefully sat back down on the bare mattress. It hurt to move, not just his lower half, but his entire figure. It hurt his behind to sit, it hurt his chest to touch the fabric soiled by violation, it hurt his mind to relive it. He could hardly breathe, eyes squeezed shut tightly as he gripped the fabric of the khakis. Sitting here, he knew that he probably wouldn't be getting out of here. Dean seemed to have some sort of fantasy revolving around Castiel. The room was decorated and Dean went to great lengths to stock it with things Castiel liked. 

That meant that Dean planned to keep him around for a long time.

Dean sat on the couch, knee bouncing as nerves wracked his brain. His hand was covering his mouth, fingers scratched at the stubble on his sharp jaw. The tv was on and he was trying to catch up on Game of Thrones, but all he could think about was Cas. He hurt his baby, he left his baby there without any gentle touches or confirmations or reassurances. He left Cas there on the bed, crying and broken. His poor baby.

The guilt chipped and chewed and ate away at him from the inside out, the phantom cries echoing in his ears until he couldn't take it anymore. He slammed his hand down on the table and stood up, taking a deep breath. He had to apologize. Maybe if he brought Castiel's favorite meal, the boy would eat without being forced to. Maybe he'd even let Dean feed him, though to be honest, Dean was getting a bit ahead of himself there.

He hurried into the kitchen, grabbing a small bowl and tearing up some lettuce, tossing it in there. He grabbed a box of spaghetti noodles, angel hair for his angel, and filled a pot with hot water, letting it boil as he grilled up a hamburger. Tossing the noodles in the water, he stirred them every so often until they were soft, then drained the water and set them on a plate. He tore up the hamburger bun and patty and mixed it with the noodles, using Ragu as the sauce. Once it was done, he grabbed the plate and the bowl of salad, after pouring some ranch on it, and walked to Castiel's room.

He knocked on the base of the door with his foot, and behind it, Castiel jumped where he was sitting on the bed. He swallowed thickly, quickly scooting away from the edge and back until the headboard was digging into his shoulder blades. His eyes stung with fresh tears and he whimpered like a hurt dog, the door opening slowly. Dean poked his head through and offered a gentle smile, pearly white teeth showing. 

“Hey Baby,” he said softly, walking inside and closing the door. 

Castiel dug his nails into the fabric of his pants, over where the crescent shaped marks resided underneath the clothing. He looked down at his knees, breathing passing through his nostrils in short pants in and out. Dean frowned at the sight of Castiel cowering away, but he knew it was justified. His Baby was scared and there was a little red spot on the mattress that had seeped through the sheets, which were cast away on the floor.

“Here Sweetheart,” Dean said quietly, walking over and setting the tray of food down beside Castiel's pillow. 

Castiel flinched away from the man as he came closer, trembling and hugging his legs closer to his chest. Dean sighed and sat down, making sure there was space between him and the frightened brunette boy.

“Daddy's sorry for hurting you, so sorry,” he whispered, grabbing the fork and picking up a small amount of the food on the plate.

Castiel didn't respond, eyeing the man cautiously out of the corner of his eye. Dean held the fork closer, eyes scanning over Cas’ body to see that he had dressed himself in the few pieces of clothing that covered everything fun. Dean didn't mind though, he'd seen that lithe little body twice already and it was enough to fuel his masturbation fantasies until Castiel was calm enough for sex again.

“Eat, please. I made your favorite…” he said in a sing-song voice.

Castiel didn't respond, sniffling softly and holding his breath so Dean wouldn't hear the panting that was a tell-tale sign of terror. Dean scooted closer, holding the fork to Castiel's lips.

“I said eat,” he warned, watching a tear sliding down Castiel's cheek.

Finally, those cushion-like pink lips parted and Dean fed him the forkful of food, pulling it free once the boy had taken the food. Dean smiled and collected more onto the metal, Castiel's jaw moving slowly as he chewed. With a soft gulp, he swallowed it down and wiped the tear away quickly. He hated to admit it, but the food was good, better than he'd expected. He still preferred his own cooking, but this was silencing the rumbling of his stomach while also managing to make him hate himself for liking it.

Dean continued feeding his boy, bite after bite after bite, until it was all gone. He then bent down and opened up the mini fridge beside the bed and opened a bottle of water, handing it to Castiel. Reluctantly, the boy's thin hand reached out and took it, bringing the opening to his lips and closing his eyes as he drank it. His little body shook and caused some of the water to spill, dripping onto his arm and chin. Dean watched him closely.

“Daddy loves you,” he said softly, scooting closer and gently pressing his hand against Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel flinched and whimpered, somehow managing to curl inwards on himself even more so than before. Dean sighed, leaning over and pressing a feather light kiss to his boy's temple. 

“Daddy's sorry for hurting you...I'll never hurt you like that again...my Sweet Boy, Daddy's Boy,” he mused, “always Daddy's Boy. I'll never leave you like that again.”   
He opened his arms, watching Castiel patiently to see if he’d accept the gesture, but he wasn't counting on it. Just as he expected, the boy didn't move. He sighed quietly, rubbing in between two sharp shoulder blades before standing up. He took the tray and walked out, closing and locking the bedroom door before making his way down the hall. He'd show Cas how much he loved him. He'd show Cas all the love in the world, as long as he was a good boy.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel had managed to fall asleep soon enough, curled in on himself with his back pressed to the headboard. It wasn't the most comfortable position, what with the mounds of pillows underneath him causing more of a nuisance than anything. He slept for a while, but was awoken by a gentle shaking. His upper arm was enclosed in a calloused, large hand.

He was pulled from sleep slowly, his dream of whatever it was dissipating into reality. He blinked his eyes open, one hand coming up to rub the sleep from his eyes. His vision cleared soon enough and the man shaking him was, not surprisingly, Dean. He wanted to yank his arm from the man's grip, but he had no energy to. Crying and fighting takes a lot out of a person.

“Wake up Baby, we got a visitor today,” Dean said quietly, his hand moving to brush through Castiel's hair.

The brunette turned his face away defiantly and whimpered, pushing himself towards the headboard to put distance between them. He heard the warm caramel drip of Dean's chuckle, then the dip in the bed where he sat rose. Dean stretched his arms, exposed back muscles flexing involuntarily with the movement. He walked to the dresser, humming and going through the first drawer.

Castiel pushed himself to sit up, his body still sore from all he had been through so far these past few days. At least, it seemed like it had been days. Dean brought him here in the morning, and had brought him breakfast twice - right? That must have meant two days had passed. There was no breakfast with him now, but it was probably morning. He needed to know; he needed to keep a fraction of his sanity. 

“Wh...what day...is it?” he asked quietly, keeping his eyes downwards.

Dean glanced over and smiled, he hadn't heard the boy speak so softly yet. It was adorable, his morning voice was gravely with sleep, so deep compared to how gentle and feminine Castiel looked. He pulled out a pair of white panties, nodding and closing the drawer. Helping Castiel stand by taking his reluctant hand, he wrapped his arms around the boy's thin frame and pulled the shirt off of him.

“Saturday,” he answered, ignoring Castiel's hands pushing him away.

Castiel whimpered pathetically, legs shaking, not from the pressure of standing, but because Dean was undressing him. 

“N-n-no m-mo-m-ore,” he pleaded, fat tears already rolling down his cheeks. “Pl-lease.”

Dean smiled affectionately at how needy and sweet the boy sounded. This was more tolerable than the screaming and kicking. He kissed Castiel's forehead gently, right in the center of his eyebrows, where the bridge of his nose became the forehead.

“Shh, I'm just helping you get dressed,” he offered, pulling Castiel's khakis down carefully.

Once he had gotten him naked, he marveled at the beautiful thin frame again. He ran his hand up the length of Castiel's thigh, then traced the dramatic curve of his ass with two thick fingers. Both hands found their way to the boy's behind and cupped the cheeks, thumbs rubbing over the cleft of his ass slowly. One day, he'd be able to enjoy this fully, and so would Cas.

But for now, Castiel was still shaking and crying quietly at the molestation, so Dean cut it short. He helped lift Castiel's feet into the virginal white panties, then slowly pulled them up his legs and fit it over the curve he oh so loved to feel in his hands. They fit snugly and Dean was proud of his size estimation skills. He patted Castiel's sweet little ass before moving again. Going back to the dresser, he found a pair of mid-thigh shorts and a large sweater.

Castiel stood there, frozen as Dean dressed him. He was too afraid to fight, so he bit down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. Tears made their way down his face one by one, and he ignored them, even as they tickled against his skin. Dean wiped them away gently once he was finished completely dressing Castiel, then kissed the bridge of his boy's nose and smiled. 

Dean handed him a bottle of water, a powder residue shaken into it to color it a red tint. Castiel drank it without hesitation for two reasons: his throat was dry from sleeping and he didn't care if it had been drugged or not, he'd love to be relaxed for once and pretend what's happening wouldn't affect him.

…

He knew there was something in the water.

Dean and Sam stood in the kitchen, arms crossed and talking animatedly. Every so often, Dean's eyes would wander to the flaccid, dazed boy sitting on the couch. The roofie he'd put in the water had taken effect quickly and mellowed him the fuck out for sure. It provided him time to talk to his brother without having to worry about Castiel.

Soon enough, with a beer in their hands, they migrated to the living room. Castiel sat there, legs curled up to his chest and head rested against the back of the couch. Dean caressed the boy's cheek gently with his thumb, smiling softly.

“You feel okay Angel?”

Castiel didn't answer, eyes glazed over and unfocused. 

“Dean, I think your boyfriend's sick,” Sam added, looking at the brunette with concern in his eyes.

Castiel blinked and looked over at Sam, lifting his head from the back of the couch. He mustered up as much strength as he could and pushed the words through his lips.

“Raped...rapes me,” he muttered, voice breaking. “H-hel-lp.”

Dean's eyes narrowed at the boy and he glanced at Sam, who had a horrified look on his face. Sam got up quickly and bolted over to Castiel, kneeling beside him.

“Say that again,” he urged.

Castiel felt a sense of security with the younger Winchester beside him. Would he get out of here after all? He opened his mouth against the speak, brain muddy and disorganized. It didn't matter anyhow, because he heard snickering next. Blue orbs darted between the two, both of them were laughing and Sam's hands were on him in seconds.

“You should be an actor Sammy,” Dean's voice chimed, his hands pulling at Castiel's ankles so he was laying down.

Castiel didn't kick or scream and cry out as Dean undressed him, again. When he had gotten Castiel down to his panties, he turned to Sam and grinned. 

“Pretty, huh?”

Sam chuckled, grabbing Castiel's hair and turning his head to face him, his free hand tugging open the front of his jeans. Castiel was too out of it to push away the hands rubbing over his thighs. Dean sunk into him easily just a few seconds later, the man's hands gripping his hips. Once Dean was nestled snugly inside Castiel's ass, hips pressed flushed together, he groaned and nodded at the long haired brother.

Sam watched Dean pry open Castiel's mouth, hand clenching his jaw so that he couldn't close it. The younger Winchester easily slid his cock past Castiel's pastel lips, the brunette having no choice but to take it. He gagged when the thick head hit the back of his throat, coughing and squeezing his eyes shut. He wasn't sure which end to focus on hating more, so he decided he'd just stop thinking, for now at least.

Dean rolled his hips slowly at first, thumbs rubbing over the brunette’s bare hip bones comfortingly. He knew Cas wasn't used to both ends like this, it was just a one time thing anyhow. After this, he'd keep his boy all to himself. This was just another step to break him, and it was working. Castiel wasn't fighting or screaming. He was taking both of them so sweetly, like the perfect boy. 

Castiel could feel Dean's hips slapping against his soon enough, the head of his cock driving right into the spot within him that had his legs shaking with each thrust. Sam groaned and tightened his fist in the soft, brown locks, dragging his cock in and out of Castiel's mouth. Dean was nipping and kissing at his neck, the tan expanse of skin still bruised from the last few times. 

“Cas, Sweetheart, you should see how pretty you look,” Dean marveled, pushing a lock of hair behind the blue eyed boy's ear.

Castiel wasn't sure how long it went on, but Sam was the first one to come. Half of the ropes that were expelled landed in Castiel's mouth, the other half on his face when Sam pulled his hips back and painted the boy's face in white. Castiel was practically asleep, ignoring the salty taste on his tongue, sliding down the back of his throat until he swallowed it. Sam tucked himself away and sat in the chair opposite the couch with a groan, nursing the rest of his beer.

Dean came a few seconds later, gripping Castiel's jaw and forcing the boy to look into his eyes. The couch creaked slightly with each thrust, Cas’ body surging upwards, only to be pulled back down by his hips. Dean stilled when he came, growling and smashing his lips against his boy's. He kissed Castiel firmly, circling his hips as he spilled inside of the other.

He wasn't about to let Castiel suffer like last time, he promised himself he'd never leave Cas alone without any sort of care again. That's why he sent Sam on his way. That's why he bathed the barely lucid boy in warm water and with gentle strokes of a soap bar. That's why he dressed Castiel in the large sweater from before and laid him in the bed carefully, covering him up.

He kissed Castiel's forehead, passed out by this time due to the the drug in his system, and whispered, “G’night Baby, Daddy loves you.”

  
With that, he left, locking the door behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but worth it? Cas finally comes around!

Castiel stopped fighting completely after a few more times. With or without the drugs, he was numb mentally, but not physically. He could still feel each drag of Dean's lips, each stroke of Dean's hand, and definitely each surge of Dean's hips. He stopped screaming and kicking his legs. He still cried, but not as vocally, it was primarily sights of tears rolling down his cheeks and averted eyes. Castiel tried to look anywhere other than at his captor’s face, which sometimes didn't work out since Dean forced the eye contact when he was feeling especially cruel, or rather ‘cuddly’ in his words. 

Castiel quickly learned that this was easier. It was easier to just take it and let Dean stroke him to completion than to fight. Dean would fuck him for an hour or so before coming in, rarely on, him and then clean him up, leaving him to watch tv or sleep usually. Castiel just laid wherever Dean left him with the blankest expression on his tragically beautiful face. He used that free time to reflect on mistakes he'd made in his life. Sometimes he even prayed to God to forgive him for all of it, including the Hell he was now trapped in, but not too often considering He never seemed to hear him.

Dean realized how much he had truly destroyed Castiel one rainy day. It had been raining all day, and just before the sun began to set, it stopped. Dean used the time to head out to the meadow that primarily maintained itself and picked a handful of yellow and white flowers. He brought them inside and kicked off his boots, walking over to where Castiel was staring at a dark tv, the remote right beside him but still cold from the lack of use. He kneeled by his baby, handing him the flowers with a gentle smile.

Castiel loved flowers, Dean knew that because Hell, he knew everything about the boy. Castiel liked flowers and nature and bees. His favorite flower was a dandelion, even though it wasn't an actual flower. He had posted on his Instagram that he liked then because they were weeds, but still managed to be beautiful enough to be called a flower. However, when Dean offered him the flowers, the boy's glassy, dull blue eyes simply drifted downwards to look at them. He made no move other than that, so Dean did.

He took Castiel's hand and opened it, placing the flowers in his palm by the stems and then closing his fingers around them. He held Castiel's hand in both of his, rubbing to warm them both up. Castiel had simply stared at the flowers, and the second Dean let go of his hands to stand and start dinner for them, Castiel's hand went limp again and the flowers dropped to the floor, one getting caught on the couch. 

That was a good few weeks ago and it still haunted Dean. He didn't want to turn his baby into this, into a zombie, a shell of the boy he was before. Sure, it was great that he didn't fight anymore, but Dean actually started missing it. When Castiel would kick and scream and plead him to stop, Dean could tell that he was alive and healthy. Now, Castiel just laid there and took whatever Dean gave him. Paranoia and guilt settled in Dean's gut that he had to check the kid's pulse every so often to make sure his heart hadn't stopped.

The thrill was gone and had been replaced with bile, all day his stomach felt like it was twisting itself into knots. Castiel never spoke anymore, he always just sat there, pliant. Dean never once thought of ending it and moving on to someone else though, because this was his boy. He was going to clean up the mess he had made of his boy's soul. 

“Want me to turn up the heater?” he asked quietly one day, Castiel's limp form leaning against his as they sat on the couch together.

No response. The tv show currently playing had on one of Castiel's favorite nature shows on the national discovery channel, and Dean had actually found interest in it after a while. Dean sighed softly, pressing a light kiss to Castiel's head as he stood up from the warm spot.

“I'll turn up the heater,” he muttered.

He returned to the spot and cradled his boy close, kissing his forehead repeatedly.

“I miss you,” he whispered against his skin. “Miss you so much. Wish you'd come back to me. If you do...I'll stop. I won't hurt you anymore. We can be normal together, eat meals and watch reruns of tv shows. That'd be nice, yeah?”

Castiel didn't respond, blinking slowly. Was Dean really suggesting that they could start over? After everything? After raping Castiel repeatedly until he bled? After gang raping him and driving him to insanity? After doing it all in the name of  _ love?  _

“Yeah, that'd be nice. You can sleep in my bed too, if you want. I'll hold you close, keep you warm, all that. I won't touch you anywhere you don't want me to, I promise. I just want my baby back.”

_ Baby _ Castiel thought to himself.  _ Baby. Love. Normal. _

Maybe Castiel wanted someone to love him, but surely not like this. But...what if Dean was his only option? What if this was the only chance he'd ever have for someone to love him? What if Dean was the only person who would ever want a relationship with him? What if, in some twisted way, he had grown attached to Dean? He depended on the man for everything, especially lately. Dean fed him and bathed him and put him to bed, things he wouldn't do on his own considering his mental state.

“Kay,” he said weakly, unable to even utter the complete word.

Dean looked like he'd seen a ghost, hugging the boy's smaller body close. He kissed the top of Castiel's head and squeezed him tightly, muttering the same words over and over.

“Daddy loves his boy.”

…

Castiel panted, squeaking softly as he slid down onto Dean's cock. Dean's large hands found the boy's hips, pressing into the soft skin there gently and squeezing. His thumbs were tucked between the creases that formed as Castiel sat on his dick, the soft little folds between his thighs and hip bones. The boy's knees were rested on either side of Dean's hips, digging into the soft sheets of Dean's bed. The blond had his heels digging into the mattress as well, his knees bent so Castiel had something to keep him balanced upright as he got used to the familiar burning stretch.

It was cold outside, snow falling and heater blasting. It had been a year since the last winter cursed the town and it was their favorite time of year. They got to stay inside and fuck the days and nights away. Castiel's dusty pink nipples were hard and goosebumps littered the surface of his skin, little cock hard and bobbing as he rolled his hips back and forth. Dean watched his lover's face, fingers digging into the fat of his ass. Every so often, the brunette was greeted with an upward thrust of Dean's hips, the head of his thick cock striking Castiel's sweet spot.

“Daddy,” Dean's ears were blessed with that sweet little whimper.

“Ride Daddy's cock, take it slow baby, we got all season.”

Castiel obeyed, the sweet little thing he was. 

“If I could get you pregnant I would. I'd fuck a baby into that sweet little tummy, make you waddle around with my kids in you. I'd breed you right the fuck up, make our pretty babies call you mommy like the bitch boy you are,” Dean panted, hips bucking upwards again.

Castiel whimpered, eyes falling shut and hips rolling forwards.

“Bounce on it, make sure you thank Daddy too.”

“Thank you, th-thank you Daddy!” Castiel's voice rang through the room, bouncing up and down on Dean's lap like this was some cute little game.

The twink bit his lip too, throwing his head back as he fucked himself silly.

“Yeah, fuckin’ take it. Daddy's boy just loves getting ass-rammed, don't he?”

Castiel always got hardest when Dean talked to him like that, like he was the man's personal fuckhole. He nodded, impaling himself on the man's thick member over and over, punching moans out of his little body each time. Castiel's stomach quivered as he drove himself to orgasm with each movement, not knowing what to do with his hands so he settled on placing them on Dean's chest, keeping himself upright. 

“Daddy, D-D-ah-a-daddy!” he cried out.

Dean felt come hit his chest and even a drop in his chin before he saw it. He looked down, watching Castiel's little cock spurting and twitching excitedly. He smirked, gripping the boy's hips and fucking up into him without mercy. Castiel had really started to enjoy rough sex over the last year, as long as Dean was there to take care of him afterwards, which he always was. 

Dean came with a low growl, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Castiel, forcefully holding his smaller body to his own broad chest as he came, filling up Castiel's tight channel with cum. He bit and nipped at his baby's jaw, groaning as the pulsing heat milked his cock for all it was worth. He pushed some of Castiel's hair back from his sweaty forehead, looking at the boy's flushed, red face.

“My boy,” he whispered, pressing their lips together ever so gently, it was barely even categorised as a kiss.

Castiel whimpered sadly, and Dean complied, kissing him for real. He slid their tongues together, holding into the dark brown locks to immobilize Castiel. After a while, the blond pulled away, nipping at those sweet, cotton candy pink lips. Some dandelions sat in a vase on the dresser and once they had both gotten cleaned up, they curled together in the bed and watched a documentary on bees.

  
“This is much better.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think with a comment!


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